I'm not here being your boss. That one word, "boss," hit Amber like an arrow striking a target. Either he was purposefully aggravating her, reminding her of his control over her job, or he was painfully oblivious. And, really, with Eric, it could be either.
Amber's chin was already as high as she could hold it with dignity, but now her jaw locked down, tight like wires closing her mouth shut. Her one comfort was that Eric's stoicism was coming undone, a house burning from the inside and collapsing on itself.
"I told you what went wrong," Amber gritted out. Oblivious it was, then-- if obliviousness included willful blindness. He refused to see things any way but his own, didn't he. "Want me to tell you again? The answer’s the same: you wouldn't listen! You only care about your own opinions!"
Frustration gnawing at her, Amber glanced away, too pissed to look at him. The bed was empty, unmade. She didn't even know who was supposed to be in it, much less how long they'd be away. Fighting in the hospital was reckless; having a showdown in a returning patient's room was professional suicide. They had to wrap this up, and fast.
She was still eyeing the bed when Eric asked his question. Chance at what? He couldn't be so unaware as to think his job was at stake: House had just affirmed his trust in Eric's judgment. It'd been a dull compliment, but coming from House, it gleamed brighter than gold. The only other thing Eric would confront Amber about, after chasing her down, would be, well-- her.
She must've been red before, from the embarrassment and yelling; hopefully she wouldn't be much redder now. "You're the one who turned me down," Amber muttered. He hadn't wanted to go home with her that night she'd invited him. Still felt too raw to say that part out loud, though. It was his turn to do the mind-reading.
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Amber's chin was already as high as she could hold it with dignity, but now her jaw locked down, tight like wires closing her mouth shut. Her one comfort was that Eric's stoicism was coming undone, a house burning from the inside and collapsing on itself.
"I told you what went wrong," Amber gritted out. Oblivious it was, then-- if obliviousness included willful blindness. He refused to see things any way but his own, didn't he. "Want me to tell you again? The answer’s the same: you wouldn't listen! You only care about your own opinions!"
Frustration gnawing at her, Amber glanced away, too pissed to look at him. The bed was empty, unmade. She didn't even know who was supposed to be in it, much less how long they'd be away. Fighting in the hospital was reckless; having a showdown in a returning patient's room was professional suicide. They had to wrap this up, and fast.
She was still eyeing the bed when Eric asked his question. Chance at what? He couldn't be so unaware as to think his job was at stake: House had just affirmed his trust in Eric's judgment. It'd been a dull compliment, but coming from House, it gleamed brighter than gold. The only other thing Eric would confront Amber about, after chasing her down, would be, well-- her.
She must've been red before, from the embarrassment and yelling; hopefully she wouldn't be much redder now. "You're the one who turned me down," Amber muttered. He hadn't wanted to go home with her that night she'd invited him. Still felt too raw to say that part out loud, though. It was his turn to do the mind-reading.